Two Poems by Sara Matson

03/14/2019

<contemporary child>

 

 

con(temporary)child

i eat

+ evolve

        her voice is sex

        a good phoenix

        like guilty human soup

        pregnant with glass

 

damage recharges

friends + art

 

i have a sister

in another dimension

like a rare ritual mask

a bedroom sculpture

 

falling asleep w/

hearts on different coats

gaming at opera +

dreaming of time travel

 

 

 

 

<party people>

 

 

flitting between burned

tea

lights

                                     (wetwax)

on green

sequins

filament strands

whisping across

painted blue

lids

trans//fixing even the

beads of sweat

to the antiquities

as i s l o w l y c r a w l

 

down

to the cool

wood of the bathroom

floor  +

press my face into

your robe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sara Matson’s writing can be found or is forthcoming in The Journal Petra, Theta Wave, Dying Dahlia Review, Vagabond City Poetry, Déraciné Magazine, DATABLEED, Soft Cartel, Dream Pop Press, and elsewhere. Sara lives in Chicago with her rad husband + cats, and Tweets as @skeletorwrites.



 


 

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